A Consequence of Conscience
by Miskcat
Summary: Roy meets with an old enemy and must decide how far forgiveness and mercy should extend.
1. Chapter 1

Roy stepped out of the car into what felt like a blast furnace. He stopped himself from squinting up at the blazing sun, turning instead to Hawkeye as the second car pulled to a stop behind theirs. "I'll be a few minutes," he said. "Wait here."

"I'm coming with you," she informed him and he shook his head.

"Not necessary," he assured her. "I'm sure I won't be long. Please stay here."

He didn't wait for her reply, but turned and began to stroll across the dry grass in the central plaza, leaving her to wait with the others. Out here in the open, without even the cover offered by the roof of the car, the heat descended like a heavy blanket. It was a bit depressing how quickly he remembered the sensation of trudging through air that felt as thick as molasses. But he walked on.

The voice became audible as he approached the little group by the fountain, and soon he could hear the words as well. "…and that, children, is why the most important precept of Ishballa is mercy…"

Roy stopped some distance outside the circle of seated children, waiting for the end of the lesson. Whereas he himself remained full in the hot sun of the late Ishballan morning (these damn dark blue uniforms, he thought, remembering summers gone by), the teacher had placed his charges in the shade of a large spreading tree that grew out of the centre of the wide circular fountain. As the sun rose steadily higher and the outer edge of the shade patch crept closer to the edge of the children's circle, the teacher watched, and timed the ending of his lesson.

Scar had seen Roy coming, of course, across the spread of hardy grass in the centre square of town. Sitting on the white stone lip of the fountain, he'd glanced over the children's heads with clear sight of the two cars rolling to a stop at the edge of the circle, and the five military personnel emerging from them. But he'd made no move to draw the lesson to a quick close.

Nor had Roy expected him to. As they'd worked closely together for all those weeks, rebuilding Central and gathering Ishballan refugees together to send home to rebuild their home as well, Roy had learned a great deal about this man and his priorities. He expected Scar had discovered a few things about him as well, as they'd worked past their initial enmity and settled into something else. He wondered what those things were.

"…and thus Ishballa tells us to forgive our enemies and those who have hurt us," the lesson continued, adding eerie commentary to Roy's thoughts.

He waited patiently, barely moving, eyes closed as he absorbed the heat bathing his body. A trickle of sweat made its way, oddly cold, down the small of his back.

"But teacher, isn't that hard to do?" interjected a young voice. It made Roy think of Alphonse Elric.

"Yes it is hard," came the frank reply. "It is the most noble, most beautiful thing any man or woman can do. But it is almost impossible."

"Then how can we do it? Why should we try?"

Yes, Roy smiled to himself. Another Alphonse Elric here, with dark skin and red eyes. Thinking the deepest thoughts. Asking the hardest questions.

Opening his own eyes, he surveyed the buildings around the edge of the square. Along one side ran a long, low edifice with openings all the way across the front, large alcoves, really, in which food vendors could set up their goods to keep them out of the sun. That had been the first public building to be reconstructed, and Roy could see the people there now, moving in and out of the light. Women in their bright skirts with baskets over their arms, men with their long embroidered tunics.

On the side of the town square behind him stood a two-storied administrative building, its upper floor still caved in and open to the sky, but its lower rooms functional once again. The town needed some governing organization, after all, to handle the return of the refugees as Ishbal re-established itself. Roy had wondered, as his car had pulled to a stop in front of the building, if he should offer more help to complete its reconstruction. Maybe he'd bring it up with the Ishballan Elders later.

To Roy's right, between the market and the administrative building, stood a ruined temple of Ishballa, the dusty stone rubble still piled amidst a few standing pillars. The plan, Scar had told Roy, was to nourish the bodies and lives of the people first, and rebuild the temple after that. Ishballa already dwelt in the people's souls, and a building was secondary.

He wondered if this had been one of the towns he had destroyed. He wondered why he couldn't remember.

"Why do we strive for this hard thing, this forgiveness?" The lesson went on, as Scar answered the young boy who had asked the question. The smile in his voice drew Roy's eyes back to his face. The cross-shaped scar bisecting the man's eyes glared more starkly than usual on his sun-darkened skin, in the shade under the spreading tree. "We do it because all of Ishballa's other gifts, all the teachings, prepare us and point our way to this. The reason it's so hard is that it is the greatest teaching of all. If we attain this, we have touched perfection, and entered the very mind of Ishballa." Scar straightened, his hands on his knees. "But I've given you much to think about, and I think you're almost ready for your noon meal." He smiled at the murmur of agreement from the children. "Go, then. Thank you for listening."

The crowd of youngsters – maybe fifteen of them around twelve years old, Roy guessed – sprang to their feet like they'd been shot from the ground. Most of them scattered, but two or three who turned in his direction paused, the immediate unease clear on their faces at discovering a stranger in their midst. And a military stranger at that. He waited, heart thudding heavily in his throat, for that extra spark of recognition in their eyes. Waited, despite the fact that the oldest of the children would have been barely a toddler when…

One of them, a girl with a red scarf tying back her long black hair, gave him a shy curtsey. Then, as though her good manners had shamed them, the two boys to either side of her bowed. Then they scampered away, chattering and laughing, the girl skipping with them, her long brown skirt flowing easily about her legs.

Scar watched them go, smiling, and Roy watched him.

When at last the Ishballan looked up, he seemed untroubled by the scrutiny. He stood, and inclined his body forward in a bow of his own, hand on his heart. "General Mustang," he murmured. "Welcome. Won't you sit in the shade with me?"

Roy stepped closer, out of the sun, sensing the immediate drop in temperature. "Thanks," he sighed. "That's much better." He seated himself on the fountain rim, pressing his hands to the stone, surprisingly cool beneath his skin. Glancing at his companion, he remarked, "You seem to have found your calling. Unless you're just filling in until official teachers can be trained?"

"I haven't decided," the other replied. "I've been teaching for several months, and it's been very peaceful. Very rewarding."

"That kid who asked the question reminded me of Alphonse."

Scar smiled. (Roy still wasn't used to seeing that expression on his face.) "He's very like him. He's one of the rewards. And," the man added, his red eyes gleaming in the shadows, "teaching him and the others is infinitely better than killing, don't you agree?"

Roy's breath caught. He closed his eyes, throat thickening inexplicably. Always one to come to the point, this guy.

"You know," Roy whispered, "I can't even remember if this is one of the cities that I…" He faltered and fell silent.

A hand closed on his shoulder. "There is no sign of scorching in this town," came the gentle response. "I've helped with the rebuilding, and I've seen. The buildings and stones seem to have exploded from the inside out. Not burned."

"Ah," Roy whispered. "Kimbley, then."

"I believe so."

Roy swallowed, bowing his head. "Well," he managed. "I'm…grateful to know that. And…it seems to me that you're pretty close to the mind of Ishballa yourself, just now."

"Not necessarily. Perhaps, after knowing you for a time in Central, I'm merely closer to knowing _your_ mind."

"A much less pleasant thing, I'm sure." Roy's lips turned up slightly. "You know…," he added slowly, "I don't think I've ever thanked you for your part in saving my life back there, down in the tunnels under Central. My life…and my sanity."

"My friend, I did almost nothing," Scar shook his head. "I merely stood with Edward Elric as he tried to reason with you. And the greatest work of all was done by your lady."

"She's not my – " Roy's gaze darted automatically to the figure of Riza Hawkeye, standing alert and watchful halfway between the cars and the central fountain, eyes methodically scanning the area. He'd told her to wait with the others by the vehicles. She never listened. "She's not my lady," Roy repeated, "but yes, she finally brought me to a halt. Still," he turned back to regard his companion, "I'm not sure even she could have reached me if you hadn't spoken first." He slid his hands further behind him on the lip of the fountain and leaned back, his gaze distant. He quoted softly, "'I wonder how a world led by a beast in human skin would end up.' You shook me right to the very core."

"I did hope it would remind you…"

"…that we already knew what that world would look like." Roy nodded. "We had both lied it. Right here, in Ishbal. So if you could relinquish your own hatred and revenge after what you'd witnessed, then I…"

"You could. And you did."

"You gave up seeking revenge for the loss of an entire nation, while I…"

Scar crossed one leg across the other knee, and clasped his hands on it. "General," he said, "hard as it is to forgive our enemies, it is even harder to forgive ourselves. If you had been able to forgive yourself for the death of Maes Hughes, you would not have found it so difficult to relinquish your thirst for revenge."

Roy managed a mirthless laugh. "Why do you think I wanted her to shoot me?"

Scar surveyed Riza briefly in silence. "You are certainly well matched," he murmured.

"She's been my greatest support from the beginning," Roy nodded. "My rock. And more importantly…my conscience."

The two men fell silent, watching the woman turn, slowly, watching, always watching. Her gun remained in her holster – Roy had insisted on that, with children in the vicinity – but her hand hovered just above it. The sun made her hair a halo of burnished gold.

"I take it," Scar remarked, "that Hawkeye will remain your second in command after you hand power over to the civilian authorities?"

"Oh yes. She won't be going anywhere."

"And when will that be? Soon, if I recall?"

"Six months," Roy answered. "Once the interim Council was elected, we got to work on the new Constitution right away. It'll be ratified in a couple of months, and four months after that, I leave office and they take over."

"A short rule, after all you did to attain your position, General."

Roy smiled. "True. But it's the right thing to do."

Scar nodded. Roy had known from the beginning that he approved of this decision. "I agree," said the man. Then uncrossed his legs and set his hands on his knees. "So tell me, General," he said, "whose idea was it – yours or theirs – that you would come here now, to arrest me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Roy sat unmoving, both hands gripping the lip of the fountain as he fought to catch his breath. The heat descended upon him like an enveloping cloak, heavy, suffocating. And the figure of Riza Hawkeye shimmered and wavered in the brilliant light across the grass. "Scar…I…"

"General, forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you." Scar turned to sit sideways, facing him, brows drawn together.

"I…don't know what to say…" Roy took a deep breath. "Did one of my…people…"

"No one has said anything. But General, I've always known that you would come one day. It was clear to me that justice would eventually be demanded. I murdered a great many State Alchemists, after all."

"As I murdered even more Ishballans," Roy retorted. "Thousands more, with much less justification." He wished he could just breathe. Maybe he should unfasten the top button of his uniform.

"Nevertheless. The Amestris military could not simply allow my actions to go unanswered."

"Except you're wrong about that. It wasn't the military that wanted this at all. If it had been, I'd have overridden all of them. But the military people, more than anyone, understood all the circumstances. This order came from the elected Council. It was one of the first demands they made."

"I see," Scar nodded. "Very interesting."

Roy leaned abruptly forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them. "I opposed them when they began talking about this. I'm on the Council too, and will always be, as long as I head the military. And while I'm still head of the government, I could just as well override them too. Except…"

"Except," Scar finished for him, "you've been promoting the idea of an elected authority for almost two years. And you can't now contravene that, just as your work is coming to fruition."

Roy said nothing. He watched his hands clenching together, white-knuckled, between his knees. Havoc, he remembered, had wanted him to put on his ignition gloves before leaving the car.

Scar crossed his arms over his chest and remarked, "It is very important that all old wounds between the two countries be healed. Amestris is helping to heal the damage it caused to Ishbal, and Ishbal must make its own gesture of reconciliation."

"Do you know," Roy muttered, "what it feels like to hear _you_ reciting the arguments for why I should arrest you?"

"It must be uncomfortable. I'm sorry. If it will make things easier for you, I will come right now and we can be on our way."

Roy straightened. "If justice were really to be done, there would be a prisoner exchange." He looked his companion in the eye. "Me for you."

"My people would not take you prisoner, General, nor wish to punish you."

"I suppose most of them wouldn't, now. Which I don't understand at all."

"General Mustang, perhaps we should go. I can see that you're distressed." The Ishballan rose and turned toward him. Waiting.

Roy's stomach clenched, and the breath threatened to choke off in his chest once again. It was so _hot_, even by the fountain, in the shade. "Or…" He swallowed, and felt as though dust had clogged his throat. "Or not."

If the other man had been silent before, his stillness now was absolute. Around them, the murmur of voices and movement in the market met the creaking sounds of cart wheels and of people going in and out at the administrative building. But here at the center, beneath the spreading tree, silence seemed to envelop the two men.

At last Scar asked softly, "What are you going to do?"

To which Roy answered, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know."

Again Scar glanced aside, across the grass toward the figure still standing guard there. "What does your conscience suggest?" he wondered.

Roy followed his gaze and watched Hawkeye for a moment as she completed another turn, looking at her fellow soldiers – the rest of his core people – who had obeyed his orders and remained behind, leaning against the two cars. He saw the woman nod to Havoc, perched on the hood of the lead car, and then she began her slow turn again, scanning the surroundings, ever watchful for his safety.

"She hasn't said a thing," Roy admitted slowly, and felt Scar's eyes upon him again.

"And why is that?" asked the other man.

"I don't know that either." Roy grimaced. "Either she disapproves of our coming here, or she approves and doesn't see the need to comment. I can't tell."

"And you haven't asked her." It was a statement rather than a question.

Roy met the red eyes fixed on his face for just a moment, until he could no longer hold the thoughtful gaze and had to look away. "No," he muttered. I haven't asked her."

Scar remained silent for a long time. Behind the two of them, the water in the fountain splashed slightly and sprinkled them with cool droplets as a bird flew through the leaping stream.

"General," the Ishballan said at last, "this is an error that I've often observed, between you and your lady."

"She's not my – " Roy bit off the words. For an instant he wanted to laugh, crazily, at his constant knee jerk reaction. For just a moment, catching a flash of humour in his companion's eyes, he wondered if Scar was making the remark deliberately just to provoke him. But the flare of humour vanished almost immediately, and he asked, "What are you talking about? What error?"

"You are almost never honest with each other."

Roy opened his mouth, but Scar had turned away, gesturing across the grass, catching the attention of Hawkeye and waving her over. And she responded immediately, leaving off her surveillance of the area and striding toward the fountain. In the distance behind her, Havoc slipped off the hood of the car and straightened beside it, standing at the ready, one hand hovering near his gun.

Roy watched the woman draw near. The heat had created a slight flush in her cheeks, and a stray lock of hair had plastered itself damply to her forehead. She gave a brisk nod in his direction as she approached, as though she were following his orders by coming here. Roy scowled back at her, but she had already turned to his companion.

"Captain Hawkeye," Scar smiled, "it's very good to see you again." He held out his hands and to Roy's surprise, Hawkeye placed her own hands in his. The man used them to pull her closer, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead, as though bestowing a blessing.

"And I'm glad to see you as well," Hawkeye smiled in her turn. "How have you been?"

"Very well. The rebuilding is going quickly."

"I see you've become a teacher too."

"Yes. One of my students is very much like Alphonse Elric, in fact."

The woman chuckled. "That's bound to make things interesting."

Roy watched them as they spoke, tuning out their actual words as Scar described some of his students to Hawkeye. The man had released her hands, but her smile retained the sparkle she'd exhibited at his initial greeting. Scar's eyes had softened at the corners, as though he, too, were hovering on the edge of another smile. He tilted his head slightly as he talked, and while Hawkeye had folded her arms across her chest, she stood with one leg bent, as though she were about to start kicking an idle toe at a tuft of the grass she stood on. For some reason, here in the shadows under the spreading tree, her eyes seemed very blue.

She and Scar hadn't seen each other in months, yet they'd fallen instantly back into the easy camaraderie they had shared during their weeks of working together back in Central. Roy had observed it many times before, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight. Riza so rarely let her guard down with anyone. It was good when she had the chance to do so.

He knew exactly when this comradeship had begun. He didn't participate in it in the same way as the two of them, but he was directly responsible for it.

He grimaced, looking away and shifting his weight on the lip of the fountain. It was astonishing, he sometimes thought, how many babysitters he'd needed throughout his adult life.

"I'm surprised you knew about my promotion." Roy's attention returned to the conversation as Hawkeye made the remark.

"I try to follow as much news as I can from Central, especially news about you and General Mustang. I was pleased when I learned of the promotions. You all deserved them, and they should have happened long before this."

"Well, it wasn't a good idea to do it too quickly," Hawkeye explained. "We'd all just engineered a coup d'etat, after all. It might have raised a few eyebrows if the general had appeared too eager."

There she was, repeating all his own arguments, much like Scar, a few moments ago, repeating all the logical reasons why he should be arrested. It made Roy's stomach roil. "No," he put in tightly, drawing their eyes back to him. "I think Scar is right about this one. I should have promoted you much sooner than I did. I won't make that mistake again."

Hawkeye regarded him in silence, the smile still hovering at the corners of her mouth. "It didn't matter. You know I'm not in this for the rank, anyway."

Roy held her gaze with difficulty. Of course he knew that. But Scar was right: there were dishonesties burrowed in all his rationalizations.

"And yet," Scar answered Riza's remark, "you both do carry the ranks you do, and you do have responsibilities. I know why you're here, Captain Hawkeye. Do you really think we should put this off any longer? I assume you've brought handcuffs with you. I assure you that you won't need them, but perhaps it's best that we follow the correct form." And again he held out his hands, palms down this time, wrists close together.

Hawkeye didn't even look at him. Instead she stood as before, arms crossed, leg bent. Looking at Roy. Waiting for his command. The smile still implicit in the curve of her lips.

He gripped the edge of the fountain, staring at those outstretched hands calmly waiting to be bound, with all the consequences that that would entail, and death being the inevitable end of them all.

This man had killed a great many State Alchemists, and had even tried to kill Roy himself. This man had helped rebuild both Central and Ishbal, and had begun teaching Ishballa's forgiveness to children.

This man – and this woman – had saved his sanity and his life.

Roy took a deep breath, and felt as though a weight had shifted from his shoulders. He saw Riza's smile emerge again before he even spoke. "Actually," he said, "you're right again, Scar. Hawkeye's not going to need the handcuffs. We're not going to arrest you, and we're not taking you anywhere."


End file.
